The Dallas daily herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1887, 1887-03-15
..sMoKE..A
A story Of the Caster Massacre.

ETC.
When you hear this story you will
see how appropriate hisnameis. The
small, well.built terrier lying there, on
the Turkish rug, in a spot OF sunlight
that brings out the silver in his dark
hair beautifully, and makes the part
ing on his head like fine line of silk.
Smoke, old boy, look up. Where did
YOU come from? Who are you, Smoke?
Do you remember the captains
whistle? All! good old fellow, good
dog Of course you do! There now
lie down again and shut your eyes
while | tell the young people your
story and how you got your name.
General Custer had started forth on
that last tragic march OF his. Smokes
mistress, the wife CT General Terry's
aid-decamp, has just been telling me
of the strange, sad morning when she
and some other ladies OF the camp
stood and watched the line OF men CO.
ing out. The sound of the march
came in n peculiar, pitilnl wild music
from the Indian scouts who headed
the little army They were singing
their death song" with which they
always 90 to battle, and it must be
heard to be appreciated, so weird and
strange and wild it is, and while the
scouts, with their vari-colored flags
flying, ride by, grooming. chanting.
singing, one can fancy n plain, dark
ened by contending enemies, death
riding iiercely and cruelty, vic.
tor, here and there. contend.
ing grlmly with life on every side. All
YOU who have read the story know
that Custer and his forces, contrary
to first arrangements, pushed on and
met the Indians at Big Horn--meeting
slaughter us we'll The battle. nearly
all OF whose re, ord the grave holds in
its grasp OF eternal secrecy, was fought
and two days later General Terry's
troop marching down upon the valley.
found only the dead emblems OF the
fight. There lay their dead comrades
silent and alone. not Il creature to
be seen far or near, but away in the
distance u shadowy outline marks the
vanishing Indian forces. Captain
Gibbs, General Terry's ad-de-camp,
was one OF those who marked the dead
and gave them burial with all the
means OF identification possible
and it was while he was engaged in
this sad occupation, that looking up
he beheld near him o small dog
fierce in expression for terrier, not
supplicating or wistful exactly, but
bright eyed and angry. The captain
would have caressed the little creature,
but it trotted away. He followed
and was led to one OF the Indian
tents where stark and cold lay the
dogs master-an Indian who had
crawled there to die.
1t was impossible then to coax the
dog into any show of friendliness, but
late in the day the Captain saw him
again approaching-this time the eyes
had lost their fierceness they were
subdued into something pitiful and
pleading as disregarding the other
officers the little dog ran up to
his first friend and held out his
paw. Then the Captain dis
covered that cactus thorn had been
imbedded in it, and the dog with quick
instinct had sought him toprocure re-
lief. The thorn and all the prejudice
were removed together. There was
no further question of Cancellation.
The Captain adopted the dog then and
there and sent him home to his wife,
who because of the fires he had come
out OF on the field OF battle christened
him Smoke"
So you see Smoke is sort OF hero
now in his Western home, and is
enjoying an old age of comfort and
honor, although the details of his ca
reer before that day OF battle never
can be known. He is pure blooded
scotch terrier, quick, alert, and saga
cious, with one popularity. Nothing
will induce him to make friends with
strangers. Loyal and devoted to his
mistress and her immediate family
dignilied and tolerant OF outsiders, yet :.
he is under no circumstances to
be beguied into demonstrations of
any sort away from home, and at the
suggestion even OF caress from n
strangers hand will rise from his re.
cumbent posture, give himself little
shake and in the most dignilied man
ner stalk away leaving you with a
q sense oil your own impertinence i'm
having attempted anything like init
macy with so exclusive n canine sover-
eign Do you hear all this Smoke,
old boy? All, there, you are ready
enough to ge, up and wng your old tail
and. run up to the window. for
Dorotha and Marguerite are calling
to you. Dorotha's eyes are eager. her
little golden rings of hair dancing in
the breeze and am sure Smoke ealizes